14 Fast Food Soups, Ranked From Worst To Best

When you're a devoted connoisseur of all things broth-based, soup season is all year long. From summer to winter, fall to spring, the charm of this spoonable dish never ceases. As a chameleon of the culinary world, its many forms and flavors make it a crowd-pleaser for all palates. Luckily, there are a slew of fast food and fast casual restaurants out there helping feed this steamy obsession.

A few chains out there tease us with a one-off soup recipe. Take Wendy's famous chili, for example, or Noodles & Co., which stays in its comfort zone with bowls exclusively full of chicken noodle. Others stir the pot with a hearty smorgasbord of stews. Cafe and deli-style joints like Panera Bread and Jason's Deli tend to dominate in this arena. But a few others, like Potbelly and Firehouse Subs, don't back down from the challenge.

As a soup lover myself, I recently paid many of these restaurants to see how their soups fare. And today, we're slurping and ranking them all, from soup to nuts. I judged each one based on the integrity of the broth and both the quality and generosity of everything swimming inside — I wasn't about to applaud a soup that felt barren. Above all, I was searching for the one that wrapped all my taste buds in the warmest and coziest of hugs.

My advice when it comes to Culver's soup? Stick to George's chili. There are also two other rotating options, which the employee working the drive-thru headset informed me of. So, even though I was on the hunt for chicken noodle, I ended up with a cup of potato soup instead — an unwelcome surprise, especially after I got a taste.

For a potato soup, it's awfully watery, like the base was made from a fusion of heavy cream and chicken stock that wasn't fully incorporated. The spuds are tender and up to snuff yet scarce – not the best look for the supposed star of the show. The largest issue, though, is that every slurp is haunted by the offensive notes of fake bacon. It's amazing how such small, stringy pieces of bacon throw off the entire recipe. It's either that or the unnatural smoke flavor infused into the broth that weasels its way into every corner of the cup. But regardless of what's actually going on behind the scenes, I immediately dropped this soup like a hot potato all the way to the bottom of the ranking. 

I'm a fan of potato soup. I really am. But it's becoming increasingly evident that this is not a strong category for fast food restaurants — a fact proven yet again by Firehouse Subs.

Compared to Culver's, this one is teeming with potato chunks. They're sizable, boiled down to perfection, and are the soup's only redeeming quality. Though the soup is more chalky than creamy, the consistency isn't comforting by any means. This can sometimes be overlooked when elevated by a batch of standout ingredients. Based on the collection of colors and specks congregating at the top, I thought this was a strong possibility, but no dice.

An overload of smoke, salt, and pepper team up to overwhelm the senses to the point that it left a strange burning sensation in the back of my throat. Someone must have gotten a bit shaker-happy, going well beyond the standard pinch of spices. I didn't even get a chance to enjoy the onions and chives or the cheesiness, which was subtle but could have been perceptible if not buried under an avalanche of seasonings.

I hate to bash such a longstanding favorite. But I fear I have to share a few critiques about the Panera Bread chicken noodle soup. On paper, all the right ingredients are there. You have white meat chicken, chicken bone broth, curly egg noodles, carrots, celery, and herbs. Sounds like a winning recipe, right? It just didn't sit right with me in the bowl.

A murky, dirty dishwater look doesn't bode well for first impressions, and an off-kilter makeup further solidifies its status as a soup that sounds better than it tastes. With every cupful I've ever had, I yearn for more noodles after fishing out maybe five to six from the depths of the stock. Chicken and veggies also tend to be in short supply, making it a less-than-hearty selection. It's not overly salty, or overly anything for that matter (expect a bit of parsley and pepper, and that's about it), turning it into a very basic and middling choice. If I wanted pure bone broth, I would have headed to the grocery store instead of the drive-thru and saved myself a decent chunk of change.

You can't Eat Mor Chikn if there's no chicken in the recipe. So, it only makes sense that the two soups Chick-fil-A whips up center around the protein. Don't expect juicy chunks of the grilled Chick-fil-A chicken you're used to within the noodle soup, though. It's pulverized to bits and hardly noticeable, therefore stripping the chain of any advantage it may have had in this clash of the soups.

For the remainder of the bowl (let's just call it noodle soup), the potential is there. The use of egg noodles was an excellent choice because they soak up the surrounding liquid yet maintain their shape. Veggies like carrots and celery help to round it out and incorporate some texture. Where it goes wrong is the broth itself. Sure, it's salty, thanks to the distinct chicken base flavor. But after a couple of spoonfuls, you also start to pick up on a chemically burnt taste that doesn't seem quite right. I would have assumed it was a bad batch ... had I not had this same experience before. I wish I could have given Chick-fil-A's other offering, the chicken tortilla, a shot as well to get a read on the quality of its chicken and stock. But as it is the dead heat of summer, it was not available.

Thanks to my great-grandmother's famous recipe (famous in my family, at least), chicken and dumplings are a dish I hold very near and dear to my heart. There's just something about the combination of biscuit-like dough and savory chicken that puts your soul at ease. I assumed that a fast food rendition was unlikely to ever achieve these same nostalgic high notes ... and I was right.

The attempt from Firehouse Subs was closer to a glorified chicken and noodle. Served up in an unsettling shade of neon yellow, it's a very broth-forward blend. The flavor is cream of chicken-esque, but diluted. There was also little to no chicken to be found — I'm starting to sense a theme here. What I did like were the small dumplings. Soft and supple, these little droplets of dough — no larger than a quarter each — make the soup. I only wish there had been more. Fulfill that wish and toss in some extra chicken while you're at it, and you could have something pretty hot and tasty on your hands, Firehouse.

Surely I'm not the only one who's wary of seafood handed to me through a drive-thru window — unless, of course, it's fried. I have to say, though, this soup is just about as good as a fast food lobster bisque can get.

Standing alongside a pod of other seasonal lobster dishes on the Captain D's menu, the bisque claims to be a "cream-based soup with North Atlantic lobster." I was expecting a microscopic amount of meat, or even just a shellfish flavor piped into the broth. But there was a respectable amount of real lobster in my bowl. The taste wasn't too shabby either, and I didn't even mind that some bits were on the chewy side. As for the orange substance it's swimming in, it's thick yet smooth, rich, a little sweet, and straddles the line between oily and buttery.

I didn't report any kind of tummy troubles later on, either. So, that was a win in and of itself. But overall, I was very pleasantly surprised by this brew.

If you're really craving a potato soup, your best bet is right here. With its delicatessen status, I was expecting more from Jason's Deli, and it delivered. It achieves everything that Firehouse Subs and Culver's couldn't with its Irish potato soup.

The taters are cut extra bulky with a soft bite, and there are plenty of them — even though it may not seem like it from the top. Dig a little deeper, and they start to pop up, just like icebergs hiding underneath the surface. A combination of milk, sweet cream, sour cream, and chicken stock makes it undeniably thick and creamy, while onion and carrots add some color. Bacon is not listed on the ingredient list. But I couldn't help but notice the smoky, down-home taste that accompanied each ladleful — a taste that reminded me of the crackling fireplace at a Cracker Barrel restaurant. My only note is that I wanted a bit more flavor in addition to this subdued smokiness. It seemed that even salt and pepper were kept to a minimum in this recipe.

Rankings aside, Potbelly's broccoli cheddar soup is objectively good. I would happily enjoy it alongside A Wreck — the chain's meaty signature sub. But unfortunately, it goes up against two heavy hitters in the broccoli cheddar soup space and doesn't quite reach their level of savor — nor the level of savor of a few other fast food classics.

Goopier than others, I was tempted to try the old upside-down Dairy Queen Blizzard trick on it, but resisted. Despite its gelatinous look, though, it settles into a smooth cheddar cheesiness. Carrot slivers pop up throughout, and large broccoli florets show face in every bite — some a bit crunchier than others. With a somewhat muted flavor that lacked freshness, it did remind me of a soup you would buy from the store in a jar or can, just an elevated version. I think it just needs an extra dash of seasonings — like garlic or onion powder — to make it pop. That, or combining it with the chain's macaroni and cheese could do the trick.

Panera's French onion soup? Oui, s'il te plaît. It's one soup I never hesitate to add to my order, no matter what time of year it is, and no matter what salad or sandwich I've picked for the other half of my You Pick 2.

Before jumping into all the details, though, let me level set with you. This is not a gourmet, Instagram-worthy French onion. It lacks a melty Gruyère cap and the toasted baguette slice that typically hides underneath. It's more fast food-ified and comes with sea salt croutons on the side — or you can ditch the croutons and throw in baguette hunks instead, like I do. But despite these swaps, at its core, the soup still does its name justice. Spiked with a sherry wine vinegar gastrique, the thinned broth is packed with notes of umami — enhanced by the addition of soy sauce — and sweet caramelization. The onions are tender and slimy, just as they ought to be, and there is a feast of them just waiting to be scooped up from the bottom of the cup. Gooey ribbons of nutty Gruyère are just the icing on the cake.

I don't think Wendy's chili gets the recognition it deserves — perhaps due to some shady dealings in the past (aka, the finger in the chili hoax that proved to be completely untrue). But this is a quality stew.

With its Columbus, Ohio roots, Wendy's follows a traditional Midwest recipe, meaning beans are a core part of its makeup –apologies to any Texans out there. It also deviates heavily from the Skyline cinnamon-spiced chili that has people in a chokehold a little farther south in Cincinnati. It's extra filling and extra meaty, made with the same "fresh, never frozen beef" found in the chain's hamburger patties. Chili beans (pinto and red kidney beans) add to the robustness, juxtaposed with diced tomatoes, onion, and green peppers. With a seasoning mix of chili pepper, garlic powder, salt, and other spices, it has plenty of bold flavor. But it's also now served with hot chili seasoning packets (essentially hot sauce) so you can crank things up a notch. With core notes of vinegar and paprika, they definitely pack a piquant punch.

This is not your traditional chicken and noodle — it's better. As we've gathered from past chains, many recipes put too large an emphasis on the broth. Not at Noodles & Co. Here, it's the chicken and the thick noodles that take center stage, giving a noteworthy performance.

Like Chick-fil-A and Panera, the chain uses egg noodles in its soup. But their natural flavor far outshines that of competitors. Coming from a proclaimed master of the noodle craft, I would expect no less. Celery, carrots, and onions join the wavy pasta in the medley. Then, slices of juicy, grilled chicken breast are plopped right on top. Just enough stock sits at the bottom of the bowl to accompany each spoonful, brightening everything up with notes of butter and parsley.

It's the only soup in the taste test that feels wholesome, in the sense that it's providing me with some kind of nutritional benefit. It's fresh, full of savory flavor, and even packed with 30 grams of protein per full-sized bowl. A win, win, win.

This soup has a cult-like following for good reason. It's one of my favorites, not only at Panera, but across all fast food stews, chowders, consommès, and potages.

This broccoli cheddar isn't the thickest you'll come across. But it still manages to be oh-so velvety (just as the chain promises) thanks to a careful coalescence of cheddar cheese, whipping cream, chicken base, and salted butter. You can always count on the broccoli stems to be big but perfectly tender, while carrots and onions step confidently into their support roles. Dijon mustard and pepper sauce enrich it, creating a unique flavor and adding complexity to every bite. 

Paired with a fresh French baguette or ladled into one of Panera's famous bread bowls, it's a meal in itself. Now, I don't think I would take my fondness so far as to wear a broccoli cheddar swimsuit (yes, the chain really did peddle these in the past). But it's certainly a soup worth raving about.

If Panera's broccoli cheddar soup is coziness in a cup, then the one from Jason's Deli is liquid gold. It's arguably one of the chain's most popular options, alongside the Club Royale, chicken Alfredo, and build-your-own salad — and it's clear to see why.

The foundation of melted cheese and sweet cream is the absolute cheesiest. It's dripping in rich flavor. The chain doesn't specify what type of cheese is used. But something about this one tastes different than the others, like a mild and salty American was the cheese of choice rather than cheddar. It seems like the fresh broccoli florets may have taken a trip through a handy chopper. They're finely chopped to say the least. But that allows that earthy, slightly sweet flavor to infuse into every bite. Jason's Deli is also so confident in its recipe that it opts to leave out add-ins like carrots and onions. I respect this move. Let the leading acts speak for themselves.

With the ultimate creamy texture and impeccable taste to match, this is the king of broccoli and cheese. But there was one more fast food soup that impressed me even more with its warm embrace.

You may be thinking, "Chicken pot pie is not a soup", and you would be correct. In its original form, it's more like a casserole packed with gravy-soaked chicken and veggies that are topped with or enveloped in a pastry crust. Potbelly revamps the classic by turning it into a broth-heavy soup. Traditionalists may see this as a bold move. But I see it as a stroke of culinary brilliance — and one that completely won me over.

Like a cross between gravy and a savory chicken stock, the base is delicious down to its core, landing perfectly between thick and thin. Cubes of slow-roasted chicken breast are abundant and surrounded by loads of flavorful peas, carrots, and corn kernels. With taste notes of garlic, salt, and pepper, the chain could have stopped there — though, I'm glad it didn't. The best part about this soup is the fresh-baked crust on top. Crumbly rather than smooth and stretched, it turns the dish into more of a chicken cobbler than a chicken pie. But its butteriness and melt-in-your-mouth texture are what bring Potbelly's offering to the top of the fast food soup food chain.

Anybody can throw some ingredients in a pot and call it soup. But making a good one takes some careful planning and balance. I tracked down every fast food soup I could find — plus a few greatest hits from soup-heavy fast casual spots. 

Thick or thin, broth played a huge role in the rankings. Quality blends are flavorful but not too salty and complement rather than overwhelm their contents. Whether it was meat, just veggies, or even noodles thrown in, it didn't really matter — so long as they were cooked well and readily available. A fresh, just-made taste really helped a soup's case, and exuding that level of comfort was key.